Secret Affairs
by ZeeHawk
Summary: Clarice begins to tell her story to us when Agent Jack Crawford brings upon her a proposition. Is she about to find Hannibal again?
1. Chapter 1

_Hi all! My name is Zee. This is my first attempt at a fanfiction so I would love to hear what you think. I would love positive feedback and critisism is welcomed so long as it's constructive and helpful to me. I haven't written properly since GCSE English set 1 (I was put off for a while after all that writing with no free will to be creative). I apologise for the mass amount of description at first, it's just to give people a perspective if they haven't read/watched any of the Hannibal series or just can't remember it. This is in Starling's point of view. I hope you enjoy it and please let me know how to improve it if needs be. :)_

* * *

><p>My name is Clarice Starling. I am an FBI agent, I graduated just a few years ago, and I am now working at the Behavioural Science Unit. It's just like I wanted. A while back, as a student at the FBI Academy, I was chosen to interview a cannibalistic psychiatrist, a serial killer. His name was Dr. Hannibal Lecter; he haunts my dreams to this day. Nothing has ever been the same since I met this man.<br>Throughout the entire time of knowing him and going to see him, Dr. Lecter has always tried to change my personality, make me appear weak to him. I did break on several occasions. He managed to escape from his new prison cell; this made me edgy for weeks. Lecter sent me letters, and I'm pretty sure he called me once but I couldn't find out the location.

The news soon got out that a man named Mason Verger, who is a surviving victim of Hannibal, had found out the locations of the psychiatrist. Florence, Italy. I soon found out of his plans, but I failed to save the man who he was planning to kill. Strangely enough, when I found out that Verger had captured Dr. Lecter, I felt the need to save him. I tried, getting myself shot in the process. It went black and I don't remember anything between then and what happened next.

I woke up, drugged. As an FBI agent it's important that you can tell if you've been drugged or similar by somebody. I did not know my surroundings at all. I awoke in a cream coloured double bed, a beautiful but small room. Almost like a hotel. It takes me a while to realise that someone has changed me, undressed me, and seen me at my most vulnerable. I am wearing a black short dress, very classy.

I made my way down the stairs. A horrible realisation hits me as I hear gentle speaking, and.. Sizzling? A frying pan. I knew where I was, or rather, who was there. I tried to sneak up on him, but he somehow knows I am there, and forces me to drop my weapon. Krendler, a horrible man, my superior, who held back my career, is at the table. Even though I did not like him, I feared for him. Dr. Lecter horrified me as he actually performs a craniotomy on Krendler, while he was still alive. I felt sick as he fried and fed him his own brains, which I refused to eat.

Here is the strangest thing of all, in this story. I thought Dr. Lecter was going to kill me, but instead he kissed me. It was forceful, yet there was a feeling of softness. I did not try to break away, I found myself confused, and I had so many mixed feelings. I think I liked it. It was then clear that the police were arriving. I would not undo the handcuffs that I had locked upon each of our wrists.  
>He lifted the butcher's knife. I closed my eyes, heard the chop, I felt nothing, although the tears were running down my face. When I dared open my eyes, he was gone, there was blood and I was fine. He'd cut off his own hand.<p>

Now you know my story so far. I haven't seen Dr. Lecter since that day, although I was made to help with the search for him. I knew he would not still be in the country though; he was too smart, for all of us. I don't know why I didn't tell anyone my thoughts; perhaps I did not want anybody to know. I knew he was a dangerous man and he should be imprisoned but something held me back. I think of that kiss a lot.

It is 3:00pm and I am sat at my desk, working on files and paperwork, a coffee being cradled in my hands, keeping them warm. I jump when Jack Crawford, who was once my mentor, stops at my door and speaks.  
>"Agent Starling." He stops briefly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."<br>I look up at him, trying to shake off any look of surprise. "That's alright sir, I didn't hear you come in. What can I do for you?"  
>Crawford swallows audibly. "We got news from an anonymous source. We have reason to believe that Dr. Hannibal Lecter is residing in Buenos Aires."<br>My eyes widen as I hear this. "Dr. Lecter? What's happened?"  
>"Well there have been several mysterious killings in Buenos Aires for the past couple of years, but they have been passed off as every day killings. A man recently found a corpse though." He stops, paling a little. "His cheeks appeared to have been bitten off." Crawford struggles with that last part of the sentence.<br>"Sounds like Lecter. So what brings you to come to me?"

He looks dead into my eyes. "You're the only person that has managed to come into dangerously close contact with him without being harmed." I nod, acknowledging this. "See, Starling, we would like you to go to Buenos Aires to investigate his whereabouts. Find him; find out what his alias is, where he lives, what he's doing."  
>I think to myself for a couple of seconds, looking down into my coffee, the darkness of it consuming me. I don't see why they wouldn't choose me for this. All that he has said is true. If Lecter had wanted to hurt me, he would have done it a long time ago. He's had several chances. I felt strange about the possibility of seeing him again, but a mission was a mission, I hardly had the choice to refuse.<p>

I take a final sip of my coffee, standing up to walk closer to Crawford and look him straight in the eyes. "When do I leave?"

* * *

><p><em>That about wraps it up. Please tell me what you think and notify me of any ways to improve my writingthe story. If enough people like it I shall continue to write more. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey people. C: Sorry it's been a while. I didn't intend to leave it this long to update. I've had a busy past week though, in all honesty. I've been having a little trouble writing this chapter out, and figuring out how to get it up here as a new chapter. xD I know it's boring at the moment, but I know where I want to go with the story in the future. Sorry for any spelling mistakes or punctuation errors, I've managed to cut my fingernail, yes my fingernail, down the middle so I'm wearing a plaster on my left pointer finger. You can see why I'd find it tricky. A big, bulky plaster whilst typing. Oh boy! Anyway, I'm rambling now. So I hope you like it and thanks for the positive reviews on the first chapter, I was so nervous!_

* * *

><p>It is a sunny day in June and I am standing at the airport, luggage in hand. I have an hour until my plane is due, and my suitcase is starting to feel heavy along with the rucksack on my shoulders. I decide to sit at the bar nearby.<p>

"I'll have a gin and tonic, please." I nod to the bartender, who nods back and gets to it. I pass him some money and thank him when the drink arrives. The ice in it is soothing, the clear taste and twist of lemon and lime refreshes me. I close my eyes and sigh as I sip.

I am interrupted about ten minutes later.

"Miss?" I jolt a little, opening my eyes and looking at the bartender who just called on me. "So sorry to startle you, but the gentleman over there has bought you a drink."

I look at the pink drink on the counter. It is small, a cocktail most likely. I turn to the man on the other side of the bar, lifting the drink slightly in a thanks before drinking. It is sweet, tangy. It is enjoyable, but not what I would usually drink.

My plane soon arrives. I am on it with ten minutes to spare. No fuss, luggage in the luggage hold, my rucksack beside me. The seats next to me are free. I am sat by the window; my bag is in the middle seat with my firm grip on it. I lay back, lazily watching the clouds go by. It's soothing. The two drinks have me a little buzzed, but not enough to be drunk.

A little while later I am feeling more alert, but I haven't moved from my lazed position. I hear shuffling and moving and the odd "excuse me" a few rows ahead of me, but I take no notice since it's probably somebody needing the bathroom.

"Excuse me ma'am." I hear the voice a lot clearer now. I turn and see the man who bought me the drink at the bar. "May I take this end seat? I've noticed that nobody is sitting here and I'm having a hard time sitting in between those _overweight_ people up there." He cringes slightly, whispering when saying the word 'overweight'.

I take pity on him. "Of course, sit yourself down." I say, making sure my backpack isn't taking up more room than I intended it to. He happily sits, thanking me and looking noticeably relieved. I smile slightly, quite happy to have done something nice for someone. After all, I am an FBI agent. I must be polite to people unless they are criminals. Or Hannibal..

My thoughts of Hannibal are disturbed when the man talks. "My name is James Morton, by the way." He sticks his hand out towards me and I take it, using my signature firm FBI grip.

"Clarice. Clarice Starling." I manage to stammer out, shaking his hand. "Thanks for the drink by the way."

"You're welcome, Miss Starling. That's a wonderful name, by the way. Starling." He muses. I smile in a thankful manner. I thought that as soon as he heard my name, he would know who I am. I have been mentioned in newspapers a few times and so a lot of people know my name. James Morton however, does not seem to recognise the name. This relieves me. I can be somebody else around this man. Hell, I'll never see him again. I think I'll have some fun.

"Call me Clarice, please." I smile. "So what do you do James?"

He doesn't seem to mind that I've called him by his first name without him saying so first. "Well, Clarice," he pauses saying my name. Almost like he's savouring the moment. "I'm a journalist for a travel magazine. I'm being sent out to Buenos Aires to see what the best tourist destination spots are. I need to write about the areas which I find attract the most tourism, tell people what's there, what there is to do. Take some pictures."

I nod, this is all very interesting. I haven't met a journalist that isn't all about FBI happenings before. "I bet being a journalist is great fun, if you like what you're writing about."

James nods in agreement. "That is definitely true. So Clarice, what do you do?"

Time to make something up. I smile. "Well, I am part of a big business company. I am also going to Buenos Aires to try and get the biggest, best hotels to join up with our company. It's a large hotel and tourist aimed company which basically works on what the tourists want, how we can make it better."

He seems to be impressed by this. Hell, I'm even impressed by how well I can lie. I always was good at fairy stories. We have a couple of drinks and chat for most of the journey, but he gets tired and has a nap after a while. Meanwhile, I get back to my cloud watching, wondering about James Morton.

* * *

><p><em>So there we go. I know, it's not much and I apologise for that. I always find it more difficult to start a story. But like I said, I have some ideas and plans for when it gets going. :) So what do you think of James? What do you make of him so far? I have several ideas for him. xD So please leave me some reviews. If there's anything I can improve please tell me in a kind and constructive manner. Until next time. :)<em>


End file.
